Hey There
My name is Tannistha Nandi. (consider this interruption the written equivalent of a wink)
I am a writer, occasional artist and professional shower-singer. I love to travel, and have been to eighteen countries around the world.
On my good days, you can find me sitting on my desk with the posture of a shrimp, staring at an open word document trying to will words into existence. Currently, I'm in Class 12, and eternally stressed about school as a result.
You're still here?
Well then, stay a little longer
Ever since I was a child, I have been fascinated by art. In the heart of every human, there is this strange voice—an artist, inside every one of us. We are alive, it screams, look at us, look at us live. The emotions burst forth from the prisms of our souls. Our screams, given hue, given name. Sometimes they are called tunes, sometimes colours.
We paint streams of these colours, tumbling down a white canvas, their pattern replicated in the blood that flows through our veins, in the entwined roots of an age old tree. We tell stories of great men, drawing their bowstrings, of bears that roam the wild earth, and maidens that drink in the light of the arcane moon. We roar for their triumphs, cry along with their heartbreaks. We hand them the key to our heart and say, ‘Live through me. Let me feel what you feel’
​
And as we look up, the stories woven in the stars laugh down at us, asking, which came first?
​
We make music, our notes carrying in the psithurism of lonely forests. We sing in the tune of lost poets, of heartbreak and pain, and such burning despair. The grief rips apart our throats, and we long, artists drunk on broken hearts, we long for love. So we dream, of lovers united for a lifetime, across the stars, only to be apart in death. Swans flock over glistening lakes, their plumage of snow setting the world alight. Their songs, as they plummet towards kingdom come, sound too familiar to be coincidental. Stray drops of paint running down graffitied walls, bright red blood escaping from a fresh wound.
​
I believe that art is something that is rooted in the human consciousness. We are all artists, in one way or another. Art lies in the swift arc of a hockey player's stick, in the practiced laugh of a socialite. Art lies in me writing this, solely for the purpose of putting into words how I feel.
​
